


Hope and Sacrifice

by drvology



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:46:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir tends to Agron, and both return to life. [3x09 'The Dead And The Dying']</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope and Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompted work. From benitle as: "Their first moment together alone after Agron is returned to Nasir."

Nasir hovered at tent's entrance in wait for a medicus. He sparked a fire left apathetically cold while alone, sat Agron at its warming fingers. Twice he had crossed to stoke it, add wood, rake growing embers to coax a generous layer of coals. Put water to boil, peered anxiously at tent opening, decided thrice there was enough wine. Lied that these actions were necessary preparation. Not cover to bring him near Agron or raise as shield between them.

He was glad for the half-light, dancing shadows, a hiding moon. They gave chance for his pensive observance of Agron to remain unnoticed. Concealed nerves and emotions, too strongly felt, clawing to surface with overwhelm of terrifying disbelief and heady joy spent.

"And where will you fit as I sleep?" Agron asked, tone light with proposed humor, attempt ruined by how thready and weak its voice.

Nasir glanced around the tent. It was only partially raised, scratch of a pallet on ground, litter of their still commingled belongings a huddled line anchoring the skirted edges he had not bothered to stake. This very morning the environs had mattered little to Nasir. Less. This night shamed him as what Agron should return to.

There were implications. Castus' tent pitched a short distance away, one passed as Nasir had hobbled Agron to his. _Theirs_. Perhaps fallen to current neglect under dual absence. As if without purpose beyond hasty shelter of items maybe needed, maybe forgotten.

Nasir grappled for words; all eluded.

Agron waved a hand, grimaced, dropped it to earth again. But the grimace twitched into a smile. "It is good you are small."

A medicae arrived, grateful interruption into another uncertain silence. She was alert, tightly strung, carried bundles to minister any necessary means. Nasir studied her fatigue, clear-eyed despite it, her furtively worried glances already cast beyond tent just entered.

He thought of her here, as long as it might take to tend Agron, and petty covetous resentment reared. 

"Galla," he met her, pitched so Agron could not hear. "Show me what is to be done. I will bear chore in your stead, relieve you to quickly seek others with equal need."

Galla smiled, and even in the firelight Nasir saw color return to her cheeks. "Gratitude," she breathed, and squared shoulders in approach of Agron, but her tiredness still showed.

The offer was selfish but practical. Nasir could not but hold that Agron's wounds were most profoundly felt, though his own eyes had shown him among the number returned many as badly wounded. Some far more. The offer would lessen Galla's load on a night sure to outlast dawn, make burden of Agron's care Nasir's as so keenly desired.

He knelt beside Agron, instinctively reached to join them in contact, reassure with massaging weight of a hand. Galla parceled snips of herb, salt, varied lengths of coarse fascia, pale tan Nasir could not prevent envisioning stained with dark blossoms of Agron's blood.

Galla chose the deep gash at Agron's breast to demonstrate.

"Make movements slow as required. Certainty over efficiency. Of most importance is to see each clean." She held up herbs, gave name, described which for staunching cuts and which for soothing abrasions. Crushed leaves with wetting vinegar, explained that some wounds should be smothered and bandaged tight, others left to breathe.

She met Nasir's word; made quick work and soon stood to leave. He accompanied her, past the drop of the tent's outer flap.

"What of his hands?" Nasir was desperate for reassurance, would never have asked in front of Agron, dreaded there was none to be had.

The wind picked up, blew clouds scudding to unveil the moon. Camp hummed with activity, Agron and Nasir's drama shared by many, but theirs yet private and poignantly attended. Nasir spared a glance at Castus' tent, saw it quiet and dark; knew from that Castus assumed watch, allowed those reunited respite.

Nasir intoned brief prayer in thanks--to the Gods, to a friend.

Galla tucked flyaway hair behind her ear and smiled gently. "Soak them in hot baths with the vinegar and herbs to aid in cleaning. Leave old fascia dried on to release before removing. They will never be the same--but are not without hope."

Nasir nodded, remembered a distracted, "Gratitude." Then thoughts flying in how to answer Agron if asked the same, ducked back into tent.

Galla had not lingered to mind.

Agron grunted, tilted to better see Nasir. "I cannot reason cause of dizziness. This great lump upon face or your ceaseless dervishing."

Nasir manacled unkind response, the want to hiss agreement of Agron's foolery. Instead he lined baskets with cloth--bowls too small for Agron's hands--ladled boiling water to mix salt, vinegar and herbs. He placed baskets where least strain on Agron would be made, circled pliant wrists with hooked fingers.

"This will hurt," he warned.

Nasir lowered each of Agron's hands into the bath prepared. Watched Agron carefully, but beyond tightly indrawn breath and a wince, Agron gave no reaction to what was doubtless great pain. Worn bandaging saturated, billowed to ribbon the water. Pierced flesh gave way plugs of dried blood and caked dirt, cleansed by Nasir's gentle but determinedly thorough touch. Agron trembled, exerted drops of sweat raised, scent of decay and agony--new and remembered--heavy on rancid air.

Agron was not only one shaken when grim task met end. Nasir leaned back, centered bield and fortitude, found again steady breath. Made to start on lesser wounds, looked up, stilled. Agron's posture--arms useless spread to either side, damaged palms upraised in dirtied water--presented a disturbing image. One far too intimate Nasir's worst fears and these past days of sympathetic death in assumed loss. He choked bile, turned aside and stood abruptly. To gather bandaging, wine, food; do all else to make busy a mind taunting cruel reminders.

He returned well-laden and fruitless thoughts shuttered. Agron had shifted, arms with bent elbows rested on knees, hands in loosely curled fists.

"Relief to aching shoulders," Agron offered, brows raising at seeing all Nasir had brought.

Nasir nodded then got to work, morbidly fascinated and utterly absorbed in ridding Agron of all impurity. Sought to absolve, to balm all suffering. He washed Agron, scraped more blood, more caked earth, was pulled two directions all during. Relief and gratitude, even low-simmering appreciation for Agron's form, his to cherish once more. Anger and grief, as if Agron's tortures revisited onto his own flesh, for weakness in having allowed them parted. But he set teeth and will, spread pungent poultices and sealed fascia with honey, did not outwardly exult nor recriminate.

Vinegar and herb wafted potently, agreeable replacement to the stench of awful days that had clung to Agron. That leached from Nasir's very pores.

Nasir lowered in front of Agron, stomach gurgling when he lifted soup to Agron. Hunger, perhaps; nausea, perhaps. He could tell not anymore.

Agron peered from his good eye. "Yet more medicine you would have me endure?"

"Dinner," Nasir corrected firmly. "Broth, with oil and grain. It will see you swiftly replenished." Nasir chewed his lip, said nothing further. Not of concern for Agron's lacerated throat, swollen face, innards likely to revolt anything heavier taken.

"Eeuch. A child's meal," Agron groused and turned away.

Nasir required a moment to restore patience, but said sharply, "Then I shall feed you as one."

He had a sip of gruel, made exaggerated sounds of appetite and appreciation, held bowl's lip to Agron without relent until action was copied. Did this until all was drained, decided half was not sufficient, traded swallows to chase another bowlful emptied.

Silence then reasserted. Nasir was again bereft words to fill it, and only when Agron swayed and growled did he startle, realize he had sat idly staring.

"I will fetch wine."

"Enough," Agron said. He groaned, winced and creaked but gained knees, then flopped on the bed. "I would rest."

Nasir nodded dumbly, helped Agron find better position, traced sorrowful and wondrous fingertips over spreading crimson petals he had presaged. Pained to see, absolute proof of Agron yet belonging to this world. To him.

Agron did not fully subside, instead raised arm and muttered, "Nasir?"

"No. I should--"

"Provide weary hands welcome pillow." Agron stared at Nasir, brooked no argument. Softly implored.

Nasir had resolved to seek no comforts until Agron's every need had been met. He had thought what is another night of wakefulness, another day of gritty eyes and numbed senses. Had irrational terror should he slip into dreams eased by Agron's presence, sinister recompense would reveal Agron's return the dream.

Agron sighed. "Warm me, give worthless arms purpose again, forestall panic if I dare shut broken eyes you shall be lost."

Nasir's heart crimped, seared, and tears thus far savagely denied threatened escape. Agron patted the bedding, made an unhappy, frustrated noise at Nasir. He floundered to sit, panted with effort and pain, grinned contrary when Nasir cursed and pushed him down. They landed together, Nasir sprawled on Agron's chest, and Nasir repeated curses.

"Rest is not reopening wounds and disturbing bandages. You are fool indeed. Already you court fever--do not brashly invite its full attention!"

Agron ignored Nasir's barb, one that, if allowed, would inflict far deeper than anything prior received. "No need as I have yours," he said mildly.

Maddeningly and contentedly mildly. Such to make Nasir frown and fume and search muddled wits for appropriate retort. He found none, listened to Agron's breath fall to steady slowed rhythm, instead made discovery. Found understanding, forgiveness.

Agron sure and solid beneath warmed him, in return; the only warmth possible to thaw Nasir's wretched despair. Agron held him in looped arms, damaged hands defiant, caressing, then cupped to Nasir's neck, Nasir's hip. Agron who did not rise to any bait, any fight, had observed Nasir with matched intensity of scrutiny and need while Nasir had worked.

Untroubled words acknowledging--then upon discernment of circumstance dismissing--Castus. But without rancor, no savoring of bitter jealousy, no accusation. Awareness of dark encroaching thoughts his mangled condition caused Nasir, and subtle adjustments to have them banished. Sneaky maneuvering that filled Nasir's empty stomach with meal ideal as kind, vital nourishment to one gone too long without. Then playing helpless--being willingly vulnerable--so that Nasir could heal, be healed, both amend.

Nasir laughed lowly, shook his head.

Agron was in no way a fool. Nor a man who chose foolish quest in preference to Nasir. This was a man whose only foolishness was how open and generous of heart--beating with sole devotion and so fixedly upon Nasir--caused leap to grasp nobly resolved best answer to seeming impossible situation. As if hope and sacrifice in legacy could be enough to subsist on.

"Hmm?" Agron asked, fit forearm to Nasir's waist so they fit closer. He yawned hugely, then brushed lips back and forth over Nasir's hair, tender at Nasir's brow.

Nasir yawned in overlapped pursuit, enjoyed the rumble of Agron's amusement, yet protested with wry huff. He considered, made fists then splayed hands, decided giving voice.

"There is no true freedom absent you."

He sensed Agron come back to wakefulness, a measure. Moved when Agron stirred, urged to look and be seen. Smiled as tears finally loosed, coursing hot and relieving, but without accompanying sobs or wrack of misery. 

Agron was stiff, clumsy, wiped them away. "A lesson shared," he said reverently.

Sounded as promise, apology, raw with emotion and exhaustion spun drawn too thin.

A sentiment also shared.

Nasir tucked back into Agron, patted bandages and skimmed bruises, beyond him not seek tactile solace. Slotted side-by-side, lessening burden on Agron but pinioned tightly held, even after Agron's decline to full sleep. Breathed in, further, savored the burn of holding too long and Agron's scent. Exhale a release, and by its end, he at last asleep.


End file.
